The Tenth Plague
by Kedi
Summary: Did anyone while watching The Mummy wonder about what would have happened if the tenth of the Biblical plagues had come to pass?


**The Tenth Plague**

by Kedi

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own _The Mummy_. Well, I do, but only on double-disc DVD. I do not own any of the characters either. Though I wouldn't decline if they offered me Jonathan... but that's neither here nor there. I do not make any money from this little "missing scene/what if-story", so there's no use in suing me. Seriously; no use. (I'm a student.)

**Author's note:** Reviews make me happy. Hint, hint. :)

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"Then we have to find him and bring him to the safety of the fortress before the mummy gets to him." Evy couldn't help shuddering at the thought of the Creature. The little voice in the back of her head had been silenced for a while by her relentless determination to put things right, but now, in the face of what had happened to the Americans, it was back. _It's all your fault, you know. You read the curse, you woke the mummy, you've unleashed the ten plagues upon Egypt. Your fault. Who reads out loud from a book called the Book of the Dead anyway?! _Determined not to show the boys how close she was to breaking down she put on her best brave face and started shooing all four of them out the door, but O'Connell stopped her, telling her in a voice that brooked no argument that she was staying there. Of course she argued anyway, but it quickly turned into an angry rant as he manhandled her, carrying her in a fireman's carry towards the bedroom. A small part of her mind started fantasizing about a similar scenario, but without a rampaging mummy and an audience of Americans and her brother… but she pushed the thought forcefully aside, and instead focused her attention on her brother in the desperate hope that he somehow would help her. She met his eyes, fully intending to tell him to get off his arse and do something when she suddenly felt dread settle in her stomach.

"Rick. Put me down." Whether it was the use of his given name or the tone of her voice she didn't know, but after only a moment's hesitation he complied. He started trying to reason with her, but she didn't listen, instead hurrying over to her brother who rose shakily to his feet as she approached.

"Evy, I really do think that good ol' O'Connell here has a point - " He stopped puzzled as she reached out to touch his face.

"Jonathan, you're burning up!" She looked into his bloodshot, too-bright eyes. She remembered her mother telling her once that one of the things that had attracted her to the adventurous Englishman she ended up marrying was his grey eyes. No Egyptian had eyes like that. While Evy had inherited quite a few of their mother's Egyptian features Jonathan had always taken after their father both in appearance and manner, to such an extent that many had doubted that Egyptian blood ran through his veins…

He took her hand from his face and started asking her if she felt all right when he was cut short by a coughing fit that nearly brought him to his knees. Wheezing he sat back down in the chair trying to regain his breath. "It's … all right. Just a bit of … sand." He coughed again and wiped sweat from his brow, giving her what he no doubt hoped was a reassuring smile. It faltered however at the sight of her wide eyed face. He was about to ask again if she felt all right when she kneeled in front of him and reached out a slightly shaking hand to touch the corner of his mouth. Staring at the blood on her fingers her mind raced through the list and mentally ticked off one after another until she reached the last of the Biblical plagues of Egypt.

"And all the firstborn sons in the land of Egypt shall die…" She looked her brother in the eye and realized that she saw fear, but not surprise. But then again, why should he be surprised? He had been the one counting the plagues, rattling them off as they came to pass in a gloom and doom kind of voice that had made her want to smack him.

"Jonny…" She hadn't called him that since they were children, and then only when she was really, truly terrified. Her voice was thin and trembling, making her sound like the frightened little girl she felt like. As a child she would run to her big brother's room after a nightmare or during a thunderstorm, and he would scooch over, letting her snuggle up next to him, and as he held her hand he told her tales of adventure and wonders beyond her wildest dreams. The sound of her big brother's voice had always managed to scare the monsters away, and the sense that nothing could really harm her as long as Jonathan was around was a childhood belief she now realized she still to this day carried with her.

She could sense O'Connell coming up behind her, and both she and her brother rose slowly. Evy turned to the American, opening her mouth to say something, anything, to break the suddenly stifling silence in the room, when O'Connell moved lightening fast past her and barely caught Jonathan before he hit the ground. He carefully lowered the Englishman to the floor, looking like he was afraid he might break the suddenly frail-looking man. Jonathan was not a swashbuckling, "shoot first, ask questions later" kind of man like O'Connell, and even when he tried he wasn't the slightest bit intimidating to look at. Still he broadcasted a stubborn resiliency and somehow always managed to get out of trouble. But looking at him now, feverish and deathly pale, with blood on his chin and more starting to trickle from his nose it was difficult to believe it was the same man.

"We need a doctor here!" The sound of O'Connell's voice broke the stunned silence and one of the Americans disappeared through the door at top speed, not bothering to close it behind him. O'Connell signalled to the other and together they moved unconscious man to the bed in the next room. Evy sat down beside her brother, taking his hand in hers and gently stroked a lock of hair from his fevered brow.

"Evy," O'Connell's voice was grave. "What's going on? What's wrong with him?"

"All the firstborn sons of Egypt… the tenth plague. Jonathan -" She stopped, unable to talk past the lump in her throat.

"But he's not Egyptian."

"Our mother was."

A shudder ran through the feverish body on the bed, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. It was the only warning they got before his entire body convulsed violently. His previous limp grip on his sister's hand clenched with almost crushing force, and his mouth opened in a silent cry. She heard O'Connell curse a blue streak and his shouted orders to the remaining American to "get the hell out of there and find that doctor!" all the while struggling to keep Jonathan down. Then all of a sudden the flailing body became rigid and Jonathan's eyes shot open. Evy felt cold as the sightless eyes stared past her. Then his entire body shuddered and she felt the crushing grip on her hand lessen. One shuddering exhalation and he was still, grey eyes painfully dull without the spark of life. She sat in stunned silence for what felt like ages before O'Connell reached over and gently closed Jonathan's eyes. She still held her brother's hand, desperately willing him to squeeze it, to open his eyes and laugh at her, showing her that is was only one of his stupid, puerile jokes. But he didn't. His hand remained limp and unmoving in hers, his eyes were still closed, and his lungs drew no breath. Her brother was dead. She wiped a tear from his cheek, letting her own fall as she broke down and sobbed.

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Woken by her own sobs Evy couldn't at first remember where she was. Then the frightening disorientation passed as it all came back to her: the wild run through the streets of Cairo, the mass of people closing in on them, her fear as she took the mummy's hand, the despair she felt as she saw the wall of sand swallow the plane, the resurrection ritual and the following fight with the mummy's priests, and her brother with the book - She leapt out of the bed and ran out of her hotel room before the thought had fully formed in her mind, not even bothering to grab a robe, and started pounding at the adjacent door. Her pounding grew more frantic and tears started to trickle down her cheeks when she didn't get a response, but then suddenly the door opened and the form of her brother, dishevelled and sleepy, but blessedly alive, appeared in the doorway.

"Evy, what the -" The rest was reduced to a grunt as she launched herself at him, clutching him in a desperate hug, sobbing with joy and relief into his nightshirt. Bemused and more than a little worried Jonathan retreated back into his room, effectively dragging her with him and closed the door behind them just as curious neighbours started peeking out into the hallway, no doubt wondering what on earth was going on at this hour of the night. They stood just inside the door for a long time; Evy desperately clutching her brother, needing to assure herself that he was indeed alive, and Jonathan whispering reassuring nonsense in her ear as he held his little sister close, rocking her gently. Eventually her sobs subsided, and Jonathan chanced a look at her, gently prying her off him, holding her at arm's length as he looked her over.

"Good Lord, Evy, what is the matter?"

"You died!" The words tumbled out of her mouth of their own accord. In the silent room the words sounded too loud and more than a bit ridiculous. Feeling an embarrassed blush spread she averted his gaze. "I had a nightmare and... and you died." Her voice shook and when she lifted her eyes to look at him she looked very much like the frightened little girl that had come to his room so many times during their childhood. Jonathan smiled, remembering the presence of his little sister next to him, eyes wide with wonder as he told her one outlandish tale after another. Relishing in the rapt attention his audience of one gave him he hadn't minded the company. It had in fact helped him forget about his own fear of thunderstorms. Mentally shaking the memory away Jonathan smiled kindly at her and gave her a playful tap on the nose. "But I didn't, you silly girl. I'm alive and well," He touched his side with exaggerated care. "That is, apart from a few bruised ribs from your hug right now." He winked and grinned at her and waved away her concern. "It was only a nightmare. I'm fine."

She nodded, but didn't trust herself to speak just yet so she just hugged him again. Jonathan was grateful that this time it was slightly less bone crushing. After several minutes in companionable silence he spoke, voice uncharacteristically serious.

"You gave me quite a scare too, you know." She looked up at him surprised, and he nodded. "When you went with the mummy I was terrified I would never see you again." He tightened the hug, then pushed her gently away from him, surreptitiously wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand before moving over to the nightstand where he picked up a glass and a bottle of whisky. He poured a generous amount into the glass and gave it to her before taking a healthy swig straight from the bottle. It was only then she noticed the bandage on his left hand. With a guilty start she realized she didn't know how he had hurt himself. Following her gaze Jonathan shifted the bottle to his right hand and moved his left behind his back, hiding it from her view. At that moment he reminded her so much of the boy he had been, hiding a broken trinket or other from their parents, trying, and failing miserably, to look nonchalant and innocent.

"Jonathan, let me see your hand."

"No need, old mum, 'tis but a scratch, nothing to worry about." He waved her concern away and smiled at her before taking another swig from the bottle. Evy was not for the first time amazed at how he could look anyone in the eye and lie so shamelessly. This time however she _knew_ he was lying and with her nightmare still fresh in her mind she was determined not to let him get away with anything that could possibly jeopardise his well-being. She could tell by the look on Jonathan's face that he realised that this was one lie he would not get away with. He gave a deep sigh of defeat before taking yet another swig from the bottle. Suddenly irritated and angry she yanked the bottle from his hand and threw it across the room. It shattered quite spectacularly against the far wall, leaving shards of glass on the floor and brownish stains running down the wall. Jonathan just stood there looking at the mess with his mouth agape, never having seen quite as violent a display from his sister before. Evy huffed and put her glass down on the nightstand before she got the urge to hurl that as well, maybe at her brother this time.

"Now let me see that hand!"

Jonathan held out the offending appendage immediately, a comical wide-eyed expression on his face. As she grabbed it none too gently he let out a little yelp of pain. Frowning at him Evy started removing the dark piece of cloth wrapped around his hand and wrist. Her irritation turned to worry however as the cloth gave way to a bloody, angry-looking wound in the palm of his hand.

"What happened?" She dragged him over to the lamp by the bedside. "This looks infected, Jonathan, why on earth haven't you seen anyone about this?"

"Well, you see, we were all too knackered when we got back to Cairo last night, and I figured it could wait 'til morning, and-"

"And yet you found the time to buy whisky!" To his credit her brother actually looked ashamed. "Jonathan, this is serious! You should have gone to a doctor immediately, you big twat!" She gave his shoulder a shove and was surprised when he cried out in pain. His hand was yanked out of her grip, and he cradled his left arm close to his body, eyes clenched shut, breathing loudly through his nose.

"Evy," She could hear both pain and irritation in his strangled voice, and the look he gave her when he forced his eyes open was icy. "Go back to your room and leave me be."

"You know perfectly well that I won't do that." Her voice was low, almost a whisper. "Because you're my stupid twat of a big brother and I love you." She picked up the glass with the remaining whisky and motioned to the bed. Grudgingly Jonathan sat down, reaching out for the glass with his good hand. Tutting admonishingly Evy held it out of his reach. "Oh, no you don't!" Ignoring the exasperated look thrown in her direction she walked over to his suitcase and started rummaging through the haphazardly packed clothes. She remembered their mother bemoaning the fact that both her children, no matter how much she scolded them, tended to just throw random clothes in their suitcases, never bothering to fold anything. Finding what she was looking for she moved back to the bed, sitting down beside her brother. Dipping the handkerchief in the whisky she motioned to his nightshirt. "Take that off, I'm cleaning those wounds, and tomorrow you're going to the doctor to get it properly attended to."

Jonathan sighed and started unbuttoning his shirt. Evy frowned as he removed the makeshift bandage from his shoulder, but her brother's warning scowl told her not to say anything, so she started cleaning his wounds without another word, trying to ignore the hisses of pain as the alcohol-soaked hanky made contact with the tender skin.

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"So..." Evy looked up from her tidying up at the sound of her brother's voice. He was trying to button his shirt with one hand and was obviously having a bit of trouble. Putting away the soiled hanky and the tattered remains of a shirt sacrificed to make new makeshift bandages Evy walked over to him, gently pushed his hand away and took over. "So..." He said again in a converstional tone. "So you and that O'Connell, huh?" She didn't say anything, but the blush gracing her features was answer enough. "Right. I'll have to sit him down and have a man-to-man with him then." She snorted at the mental image it conjured, and he frowned goodheartedly. "Evy, you're stepping on my moment of manliness here." This made her giggle, and soon they were both laughing. As the laughter turned to chuckling and finally silence Evy looked at her brother fondly. "I'm so happy you're okay, Jonathan."

He smiled at her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm always okay, old mum."

Her smile faded a bit at that. "But you could easily have been ... not okay." The irritated look he threw her immediately made her defensive. "Don't look at me like that, Jonathan! Mother was Egyptian and you're her firstborn son, you could very well have been killed by the tenth plague!"

"But for God's sake, Evy, I wasn't!" He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Evy, trust me on this, there is absolutely nothing to gain from 'what if's'. Yes, it's possible that the tenth plague would have killed me. But!" He held up a finger, stopping her from interrupting. "But it's equally possible that I wouldn't have been affected at all, since I'm only half Egyptian! And what difference does it make?! We stopped the Mummy before the tenth plague came to pass, so all of this -" He gestured forcefully with his good arm at the situation they found themselves in. "- is academic! It serves _no use_ _whatsoever_!"

The room was silent after that. The only thing that could be heard was Jonathan's angry breathing as he collected himself. Evy bit her lip and let her gaze go everywhere but to the figure sitting on the bed.

"But now," he said, voice again calm. "Now I think it's time to summon Morpheus again. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling homesick to good ol' England and plan to take the first ship I can find that sails for Britain." Evy hesitated as he lay down on his right side, his back to her. The whisky no doubt not only dulled the pain, but made him sleepy as well. Not to mention that he probably was sick and tired of her fussing. She was just about to go when he snorted and moved over to make room for her.

"Come on, you silly girl, but please excuse me for skipping the story this time, I really am rather tired." She lay down and drew the blanket over them both, careful not to jostle his injured arm. Laying there back to back the reassuring presence of her brother and the soothing sound of his quiet snoring lulled her to sleep. For the first time in what felt like ages she was safe and happy.

_Fin._


End file.
